You Don't Know What You Have
by ninja-at-221b
Summary: John didn't believe in that soulmate crap


A/N: I have moved to mostly using Ao3, ninja_at_221b, but I'm posting some stories up here too. I'll be posting there first, and some stories will just be on there, but none of them will be limited to members of Ao3 only, so feel free to check my account there too.

John Watson didn't believe in soulmates.

Nobody was going to magically come into his life that he would know to be the one. Nobody was going to make John think that he was ruined for anyone else. Nobody was going to hold one half of his heart in their chest. John simply didn't believe in that bullshit. He thought it was a cute concept made by romantic girls.

John felt the breeze pick up a bit on the run way. He shivered. Sherlock had finished his last talk with John. It was over. Sherlock was gone. No more blogging about crazy chases down alleyways. No more waking up at 3 am to catch a killer. No more blocking Sherlock from view as he picked a lock. He squeezed Mary's hand tighter. She squeezed back as they both watched the person who had killed so that they could stay safe leave on a mission. One that would end in Sherlock's death.

Of course John could tell that Sherlock was going to die. He would have never used his brother's estimates, let alone say that Mycroft was "never wrong." Still, he was glad Sherlock didn't say it out loud. John didn't know how much he could have taken in that last conversation. Sherlock had seen it in John's eyes. He left things unspoken, but implied.

John also learned that Sherlock was really bad at covering himself up on the spot when it came to John, even after their years apart. "Sherlock is actually a girl's name" was the worst cover John had ever heard. But Sherlock tried, and John appreciated it.

John was reminiscing while Mycroft walked up to him and informed him that Sherlock was coming back and Moriarty had faked his death too. Sherlock was coming back. John felt full, happy, alive. Mary was talking to him about Moriarty, and he's answering, but his mind is still buzzing with he's back, he's back, he's back... Sherlock steps off the plane dramatically, as is his style. His coat flutters around him as he walks down the stairs. Sherlock locks eyes with John and suddenly John is meeting Sherlock before he can get to Mycroft's car. He hugs Sherlock tight.

"Don't do that to me again." John whispers into Sherlock's neck. Sherlock nods.

"I won't, John. Never again." John hugs him and Sherlock hugs back. He feels so warm and happy and relieved. He can hear Mary in the distance calling his name, but she can wait. His best friend just came back from the dead again, and he needs the comfort of a hug.

"John." Be quiet Mary, can't you see I need him? John thinks.

"John!" _I need to hold on forever._

 _I'm not letting go._

 _Not letting go._

 _Not letting go..._

"JOHN!" John opens his eyes to the darkness of his room. Mary has her hand on his arm and she looks worried. When did he get to bed? What happened after the hug? Did he pass out? He would be so embarrassed if he passed out. No, he couldn't have, that just wasn't right...

"Is it Sherlock? What'd he do?" John asks. Of course that bastard would go and do something crazy right after being sentenced to certain death. Did he drug John? Mary looks at him with sympathy. Why sympathy? Probably drugs. Damn that git. He'd do anything in the name of science.

"You were dreaming again, John." She says, her tone light but her face dark. She seemed so scared. What did Sherlock do? Hallucinogenics? Sleeping pills in large numbers? Did he miss something important?

"Oh. Okay. But where's Sherlock?" He shouldn't get to scare both him and his wife in one day. John was going to throttle the madman. What did he even drug? Did he insert by needle during the hug? Clever, but still horrible. He waits for Mary to explain.

"John," Mary says slowly, carefully. "He went on that mission, remember?" John's face crumples. His heart shatters. He almost forgets to breath. It's like something his torn into his chest. It hurts, oh god does it hurt. Worse than his limp, worse than being shot. He hasn't felt this kind of pain before.

John didn't believe in soulmates. Not until his was gone.


End file.
